


someday we'll walk in the sun

by iwillbeyourgoal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluffy Angst, Historical, M/M, POV Remus Lupin, Post-Hogwarts, angsty fluff, first wizarding war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-11-28 10:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20965046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillbeyourgoal/pseuds/iwillbeyourgoal
Summary: “We should go in June,” he’d said to Sirius one night in bed, his head propped up on his arm, an almost manic energy about him. “That’s when they… that’s when they celebrate people like us. They have a whole month for it, Sirius. And a parade, and – "“Arright, Moony,” Sirius said sleepily, moving his face to nestle in the others’ chest. “June in San Francisco. Lezgo.”for wolfstar games 2019.





	someday we'll walk in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> title from "born to run" by bruce springsteen

“Remus… Lupin?” the fellow at Heathrow said, cocking his head. “‘S quite a name you’ve got on you.”

“I’ll give your regards to my parents,” Remus said testily. They were 12 minutes away from boarding, a fact made even worse by the fact that he was the reason that was the case. 

_ “Just shove the contents of your dresser into your bag, no one’ll care what you wear,” Sirius said, leaning against their flat’s door frame with a suitcase of his own. _

_ “They’re Americans, Sirius!” Remus exclaimed frantically, unpacking and repacking the same pair of pants three times. “They’re awfully judgmental, you know!” _

“Right,” the airport attendant said, handing Remus his passport and ticket back. “You’re all set. Have a safe flight.”

“You know we’re not the ones flying it, right?” Sirius said baldly as he handed the man his own documents. “Not really our say whether or not it’s safe.”

The man blinked, and Remus almost felt bad for him. He wondered how many wizards he unknowingly dealt with on a daily basis, who were so un-used to travel by anything but Floo powder or broomstick or apparition.

Or motorbike, Remus supposed, smirking as Sirius danced anxiously while he waited for the man to return his passport. 

“Well, in any case, have a lovely trip. San Francisco is beautiful.”

While they were both looking forward to the trip, Remus knew that Sirius really needed some time off, even more than he did. The Order had recently asked so much of them, and there had been a few instances recently whether either one or the other had narrowly escaped with their lives. There was a war on, of course, they understood this – but the human mind and body can only take so much. This was the defense they’d raised to Dumbledore, and, if they were being honest, it took less convincing than they thought it would.

_ “A trip?” he asked, his discerning gaze peering over his half-moon glasses at the two men. _

_ “A trip,” Remus said, nodding. _

_ “To America,” Sirius added. _

_ “For one week.” _

_ Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: “America, indeed.” _

_ He fell silent again, and the two stole worried glances at each other before he continued. “One week, you say?” _

_ They knew in that moment they’d be granted permission. _

They squeezed into their two seats near the back of the plane. They’d flown, of course, in the sense that they’d moved very quickly through the air, but neither of them had ever flown in a plane. The reason they decided to go the Muggle route rather than their native ways, was – well, California was rather a far destination for any of their means to accurately dispense them in their destination. Even though they were incredibly talented wizards for their age, they weren’t  _ that _ talented. Not quite. 

“It’s really remarkable that they keep these things in the air across whole countries,” Sirius muttered, his words coming out a bit higher pitched than usual, peeking out the window at the tarmac. “The ways they make up for not having mag– _ bloody hell! _ ”

Remus elbowed him in the ribs. The other boy glowered at him and sunk a few inches further into his seat. “‘M just saying,” he mumbled, and Remus did his best not to smirk. 

The two of them had actually never been on a trip like this together before. Oh, they’d gone all over the UK and Ireland, finding Death Eaters and following information on the Order’s behest. But this? Traveling for the sake of it?  _ A vacation _ ? The thought almost wasn’t to be borne. And neither of them had ever been to America, let alone California, so this experience was almost entirely foreign. 

As Sirius fidgeted with his seat and mindlessly flipped through the pamphlets provided in the seat pockets, Remus reached over and covered the boy’s hand with his own in an attempt to calm him. Historically, this had a pretty high success rate when they were at home or even when they’d been in class at Hogwarts and something particular had been upsetting the older boy. 

But this time Sirius quickly pulled his hand out from under Remus’s and his eyes jerked toward the aisle, where a stewardess was progressing toward them and checking every row. 

Logically, Remus understood. They’d never really discussed how they would act in public, and more specifically, around strangers. Their professors and fellow Order members knew, of course, it was obvious to anyone who had eyes and had known the two for more than an hour. But that didn’t change how the world might see them – even other magic users might turn their nose up at best and hex them at worst. (And even that outcome, Remus thought, was being generous.)

So yes, Remus followed Sirius’s logic when he yanked his hand away from him. It didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Sirius must have seen the sadness flash across Remus’s face, because the look on his own face was instantly one of apology and pain. 

_ We can’t _ , it said.

“I know,” Remus whispered as the attendants told them to buckle in for the flight. 

_ I love you, _ Sirius’ eyes conveyed. _ I’m sorry.  _

Remus sighed. 

“I know.”

If Dumbledore had picked up on their reasoning for going to San Francisco, he didn’t mention anything. James, meanwhile, had been all questions and head tilts. “America?” he’d said incredulously. “But that’s so far away! Why not… I dunno, why not Paris or Barcelona – or, hell, why not  _ a hotel a few miles away _ ?”

“Are you telling me that if you had the chance to get an entire ocean away from this bloody war, you wouldn’t grab it?” Sirius had said flatly.

James looked to Remus for support, but the werewolf just shrugged. “We’ll bring you back a souvenir,” he offered placidly. James narrowed his eyes and skulked away. Remus looked back at Sirius and they both smiled – they knew he was just upset at not being invited. But truthfully, they had no idea when the next time they would be able to spend any time alone together would be. The war had already taken so much from them, and they were only 18. Death lurking around every corner, furrowed in every stranger’s brow, is no way to live as a teenager. 

And San Francisco had garnered itself a bit of a reputation in recent years. Members of government, prominent political figures announcing that they were gay or lesbians – when Remus first read about the city in books he’d picked up from a Muggle library he’d almost cried. 

“We should go in June,” he’d said to Sirius one night in bed, his head propped up on his arm, an almost manic energy about him. “That’s when they… that’s when they celebrate people like us. They have a whole month for it, Sirius. And a parade, and – ”

“Arright, Moony,” Sirius said sleepily, moving his face to nestle in the others’ chest. “June in San Francisco. Lezgo.”

Remus smiled at the memory, looking over to Sirius whose head was leaning against the wall of the plane and whose mouth was agape. They were about six hours into the eleven hour flight, and Sirius had been passed out since hour two. 

Remus tried to hold his laughter in as he leaned over and wiped away a bit of the dried drool on the corner of Sirius’s mouth. 

“Sirius Black,” he murmured fondly, brushing the other boy’s hair out of his face. “If all those girls who fawned over you in school could see you now… They’d probably still fawn.”

He returned to the book he was reading –  _ All the President’s Men _ , a fitting choice for a trip to America, he had thought as he bought it – but within 20 minutes he was asleep on its pages.

They slept, on and off, for the rest of the flight, only waking up to eat the meals brought to them by the stewardess. By the time they landed it was 1 in the afternoon in California, and they had prepared a potion to drink once they landed to combat jet lag, but they had slept so well that they didn’t need it. 

“D’you ever wish you were a Muggle?” Sirius asked, loading their luggage into the boot of a rental car outside of the airport. 

“How do you mean?” Remus asked as he (attempted to) discreetly prod the tires with his wand, inflating them to an acceptable tension. 

“I mean, like, look at all of this.” He gestured to the car and the sky, where an airplane was taking off. “They don’t have magic, so they have to make all of these things  _ from their mind _ . People like my family and the Death Eaters and  _ fucking Snape _ think they’re so much better than Muggles, but pound for pound I’d say they’ve got us beat on creativity.”

Remus smiled as he crossed the car to get into the passenger seat. He loved how Sirius thought about things; his way of seeing the world was so unlike his upbringing or even any of their fellow Hogwarts students. 

“I would have to agree with you there,” he said. “Hogwarts students could stand to learn more about Muggle science and history in school.”

“When  _ I’m _ headmaster of Hogwarts,” Sirius said grandly as he opened the drivers’ side and got in, “I’ll do away with all magic. Every scrap. Let’s learn to build cars and… those little things they use to attach parchment.”

“Staplers?” Remus offered.

“ _ Staplers _ !” Sirius clapped triumphantly. “Hogwarts School of Cars and Staplers.”

Smirking, Remus unfolded the map of California they had bought inside the airport and enchanted it to glow along their route. “Let’s survive this war first, eh?”

“Oh, alright then,” Sirius said sulkily as they took off. “I suppose that can be order one.”

Sirius and Remus were staying in a modest hotel a few blocks away from where that year’s Gay Freedom Day Parade would take place. They’d parked and dropped off their trunks at the hotel and, feeling relatively energized, set out to find somewhere to eat. 

Even though the festivities weren’t set to take place until the following Sunday, the area was already buzzing with anticipation and excitement. There were to be some speeches on Market Street and at City Hall, and the city was already starting to decorate. “Welcome GAYS of the WORLD!”, “SAY NO TO PROP. 6” and signs of that ilk were peppered through business windows and personal residences.

More than one couple comprised of both men or both women passed by them – holding hands, kissing, laughing – and Remus’s heart simultaneously ached and felt like it was going to burst. He was so happy that there was some tiny hamlet in the world where people like him and Sirius could walk outside and love each other. He wished with his whole being that they could live like that, but at least until this cruel war was over, when they were home they had to focus on fighting. 

They found a small deli and, after a brief but heated argument over whether Sirius was allowed to turn into Padfoot and sneak some food out for them, ducked inside to order and pay above board. 

“I’ll just have the, ah… roast beef sandwich and French onion soup, please,” Remus said to the cashier, a young man with sandy blonde hair and eyes that looked like caramel. 

“And I’ll have the Reuben,” Sirius said, grinning. “With crisps.”

The man’s eyebrows raised. “C–crisps?”

“Yeah, mate,” Sirius said as though he were talking to a child. “Crisps. Y’know, potatoes? Sliced very thinly? Fried? Sometimes salted and – for God’s sake, man, you’re American, surely–”

“Ohh,  _ chips _ ,” the cashier interrupted with a sigh of relieved understanding. “Sure. We have  _ chips _ . That’ll be $7.40.”

His words indicated sarcasm but the tone was unquestionably flirty, and Remus found himself stiffening. 

“Thanks,  _ mate _ , cheers, then,” Remus said darkly as he handed over the cash, pulling Sirius away from the counter to sit down at a table. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal your man, Ringo!” the cashier called after them, and Remus’ jaw dropped. 

“ _ Ringo _ ?!” he hissed in disbelief as Sirius howled with laughter. “I am at least a Paul!”

“You’re absolutely a Paul,” Sirius agreed as they sat, his cheeks flushed red with laughter. “Wormtail’s the Ringo, if anything.”

Remus snorted. “And who’re you then? John, I s’pose?”

“Me? John?” Sirius scoffed. “That’s James, Remus, I thought you knew me better than that. I mean, if we’re being honest, I’m Paul and you’re George, but for the sake of today, I’m willing to switch.”

“How magnanimous,” Remus said flatly, but he smiled a little. 

The cashier brought them their sandwiches as well as two free sodas.

“Consider this an apology for causing the Great Beatles Argument of ‘78,” he said, and Remus decided as he took a sip on his Coke that maybe he did like this person, just a little. “I’m Adam, by the way.”

“I’m Sirius,” the older boy said. “And this is Remus.”

“Fancy names!” he said cheerfully, and Remus was glad they were the only customers, because he had a feeling that Adam was not especially efficient at his job. “So, are you two visiting for the parade?”

“No, we’ve lived here our whole lives,” Sirius deadpanned, and Remus swatted his arm.

“Yes, we are,” he answered. “Came from London.” 

“Oh, my  _ God _ , I’ve always wanted to go!” Adam whined a bit. “But it took all my money just to get out here, so traveling’s off the table for a few years at least.”

“Are you not from here?” Sirius asked around a mouthful of Reuben.

“No one’s really  _ from _ here. Not in the Castro – where I live – at least,” Adam said, shrugging. “I’m from Oklahoma. I moved here about six months ago with my boyfriend, though.”

“What’s special about the Castro?” Sirius asked. 

“It’s the neighborhood for, ah...” Remus started.

“For gays and lesbians,” Adam supplemented. “And everyone in between. People who don’t… fit in, you know?”

“Oh, we know,” Sirius said, quirking an eyebrow. 

“So how long have you two been together?” Adam asked. 

“Oh, we’re not–” the two of them said automatically.

“Cut the bullshit,” Adam cut them off, not unkindly. “Trust me, you don’t have to hide here. How long?”

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, and Remus realized he didn’t really know the answer to that question. When did this – the two of them – start? He had no idea. Was there a date, a solidified number of years? Was it the first day of their first year at Hogwarts? Their first kiss, drunken their fourth year in the Shrieking Shack? The first time they said “I love you,” quietly in the Quidditch stands after Gryffindor won against Slytherin their sixth year? When did the two of them begin?

“We’ve been together…” he trailed off. 

“Forever, I’d imagine,” Sirius said in a rare display of public vulnerability, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck  _ me _ , that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Adam said, and Remus tried and failed to suppress a snort. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your food. I’m glad y’all are here. This is a special time in San Francisco.”

“We’re glad, too,” Remus said, smiling at Sirius. 

They finished eating and said goodbye to Adam, who grinned and called, “Have a happy Freedom Day, Paul and George!”

“We will, Bruce Springsteen!” Sirius replied, waving with one hand as they exited.

They spent the rest of the day acquainting themselves with the area. There were plenty of little shops and cafes to visit. Sirius bought a new leather jacket and convinced Remus to buy a camel-colored suede jacket with fringe on the back. 

“You look fucking  _ delicious _ ,” he muttered darkly in Remus’s ear as the werewolf looked at himself in the mirror, and Remus coughed loudly and shifted his stance to accommodate the sudden tightening in his pants – and that made the decision on whether or not to purchase the jacket for him.

They stopped by a bookstore where Remus talked to a fellow customer for approximately 40 minutes about  _ The Lord of the Rings _ while Sirius walked in circles, clearly trying to convey his boredom. (He liked to read, but he hated book shopping with Remus, who knew this and didn’t care.)

Their day ended at a pub a few blocks from their hotel, and the prospect of not having to drive (or fly, or Apparate) home combined with their vacation mindset was all they needed to open a tab at the bar and order, seemingly ad infinitum, the establishment’s finest lager. 

Seven beers – each – later, they were scream-singing “Sweet Caroline” along with the jukebox and the rest of the patrons.

“ _ Sweeeet Caroliiiiine _ ,” sang Sirius and the people occupying the right side of the room.

“ _ Ba ba baaaaa,” _ Remus, and the left side, followed up.

“ _ Good times never seemed so good!” _

_ “So good! So good! So good!” _

That night, as they stumbled, laughing, to their hotel, Remus almost felt confident enough to take Sirius’s hand.

Almost. 

They filled the rest of their week with the tourist destinations they’d been told about and Remus had read about in the seemingly endless travel guides he’d taken from the library. They paid for a picture by the Golden Gate Bridge, toured the Ferry Building, and went shopping (and smoked some somewhat questionable pot) in Haight Ashbury. It was, by all accounts, one of the best times Remus had had in ages. He would be willing to bet the same could go for Sirius. 

More and more people were pouring into the city for Gay Freedom Day, too. The sidewalks were soon congested with hundreds of people whose senses of fashion, if Remus were being honest, wouldn’t look out of place with some of the more eccentric wizards and witches. And they were all so  _ kind _ . People smiling at them, stopping to talk, complimenting their outfits. He wasn’t sure if they just talked to some particularly unbiased people or if they were just in a nice part of the country. He’d like to think it was a combination of both.

When the day of the parade came, Sirius and Remus had been so inundated with local politics and conversations with people of all genders and sexualities that they almost felt like they lived there.

“What d’you wanna do for breakfast this morning?” Remus asked as they got dressed in their room. “Howard’s?”

“Nah,” Sirius said, rotating and looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. “Howard’s is right on the parade route, I bet it’ll be swamped. Let’s go to Pinecrest Diner, I’ve been wanting to go there anyway.”

“Sounds good,” Remus said, turning Sirius around and kissing him deeply. 

“Happy Freedom Day,” he said as they separated, and Sirius’s eyes sparkled as he grinned. 

“Happy Freedom Day,” he echoed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They went to Pinecrest and shared a breakfast platter meant for “three to five people” according to their somewhat judgmental waitress. This came complete with pancakes, sausage, eggs, bacon, yogurt and fruit, toast, coffee and orange juice. They did have the appetites of growing boys, after all, and Remus being a werewolf didn’t necessarily help his eating habits. 

Their plan was to head straight to the parade route after breakfast, to get a good spot to see the proceedings that would also allow them to duck away to see some of the speeches without having to walk too far. They’d bought two lawn chairs that a local general store was selling (“That’s a cheeky business practice, selling chairs before a parade,” Sirius said playfully as an old woman sold them the chairs. “Very cheeky, miss!”) They found an ideal spot and as they sat, two men walked in front of them wearing nothing but skimpy neon-colored thongs and bright, flowy capes.

Sirius turned to Remus and gave him a once-over, smirking.

“Not a fucking  _ chance _ ,” Remus said, but he was smiling. “Well, maybe when we get back to London.”

“Oh,  _ Christ _ ,” Sirius said, already cackling. “Can you imagine if James or Lily walked in on you wearing  _ that _ ?”

Remus snorted and shook his head. “We’ve held too many funerals recently, I can’t handle causing theirs.”

(He would have restrained this gallows humor among other members of the Order, but this was how he and Sirius survived these days.)

Sirius howled and almost fell backwards in his chair. “Rest in peace, James and Lily Potter,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “They died as they lived –”

“Observing their friends acting like complete and total knobs,” Remus finished.

“May God rest their souls.”

“Amen.”

More and more people flooded the streets, and Remus thought he’d never seen this many people in one place. There had to be thousands of people here, maybe tens of thousands. Everyone from children to the elderly, from those who grew up down the street to natives of countries as far away as Turkey. The wide spread of ages, races and locations fascinated Remus. 

The parade started around 10:30. Different groups for different reasons and organizations started marching down the street to cheers and yells from the vast crowd. Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, Jewish Lesbians, Gays from LA, different Gay Straight Alliances from local colleges and high schools, and numerous others. 

The theme this year was “Come Out with Joy, Speak out for Justice.” This seemed to be based on the recent Proposition 6 – the Briggs Initiative – which, if passed, would make it legal to ban lesbians and gay people from working in California public schools. There was a mile-long group of people with anti-Briggs signs, and both Sirius and Remus cheered extra loudly at their section.

About 10 minutes after this, the parade seemed to halt. People looked around, confused, and Remus had the feeling this wasn’t a normal occurrence at the parade.

At once, huge flags rose from the marchers in the street, and they seemed to all be the same – striped with the colors of the rainbow. There were no words on the flags, and no indication as to what they stood for, but Remus knew as soon as he saw it. That was his flag. And not just his – but Sirius’s, and Adam’s, and everyone at this parade’s. He had no idea where it had come from, but it belonged to all of them, and as he looked around, he could tell that the other attendees were thinking the same thing. He expected there to be cheers – and there were some smattered “whoops” – but there seemed to be a sort of reverence at this unveiling that made Remus’s breath stop short. He had to rid himself of this feeling.

“A bit garish, don’t you think?” Admittedly, Remus’s attempt at humor fell flat even to his own ears, and Sirius didn’t respond. When Remus turned to look at him, his chest nearly seized with the sincerity apparent on the boy’s face.

“Nations have flags, y’know,” Sirius said after a moment’s silence. “Organizations have flags. Hell,  _ Hogwarts houses _ have flags. Helps you know who you belong to. Feel like you’re a part of…” His sentence trailed off as he looked down, his hair curtaining his face so Remus could no longer see his expression. “Never seen a flag for… what we are, though.”

_ Oh, God,  _ Remus thought.  _ I’m going to cry _ . 

Categories were such a prevalent part of the wizarding community – you were Sorted before you even understood what it meant, and then there were the Quidditch players, the academics, the partiers, any number of groups once you’d reached Hogwarts. And even  _ then _ – were you a Seeker or a Keeper? Did you get your OWLS in Charms or Potions, or both? 

So many boxes, smaller and more specific as the list went on, to fit yourself into. 

But this? It was beyond any clique or class they’d seen before. It was a statement: Hullo! This is me. I am here, and I belong. 

He grabbed Sirius’s hand firmly in his own and blinked away the tears. Sirius raised his head to look at Remus, and he allowed himself a big, crooked smile.

“C’mere,” Sirius said, pulling the other into his arms and kissing him. In the middle of the street. With people all around them. Remus’s head was swimming at the  _ boldness _ of it all. 

As they broke apart, Remus laughed quietly and brushed a stray strand of hair out of his boyfriend’s face. “You’re blushing,” he mumbled, which only deepened the redness painted across Sirius’s cheeks. “You look properly debauched.”

“Well, my boyfriend’s fit, and mine alone, and by my mark that’s enough to debauch even the purest of the pure.”

And for a moment, in the middle of the joy and laughter and music and color, Remus felt something he hadn’t truly felt in quite some time.

He felt safe.

The rest of the day passed by in a beautiful, colorful blur. They watched some rousing speeches and signed some petitions (“Fuck the Briggs Initiative!” Sirius had taken to saying to every passerby, who almost always responded with a resounding “ _ Yeah! _ ” or something equivalent) and cheered and screamed till it felt like their lungs would give out. 

This was why they came, Remus thought, grinning as he watched the Dykes on Bikes procession. Maybe they didn’t know the full extent at first, but now he understood. They came to feel like they belonged to a world outside magic. And they did. In a small, somewhat understated way – but they  _ did _ . This was now one of their communities. 

As they were heading back to their hotel to pack to leave the next day, they were stopped by a slight man with grey hair and a beard and sparkling bright blue eyes. “Hey!” he said and held out a small scrap of fabric, which Sirius took. “Here you go. Happy Freedom Day.”

He flounced off without another word and Sirius looked at the gift. It was a much smaller version of the flag that had been raised earlier, clearly hand-dyed and sewn. Remus felt like he was going to cry again. 

“This one’s ours,” he whispered, smiling a wobbly smile. “So we know. To remind us.”

Sirius nodded, and Remus could tell that if he were going to say anything he’d burst out in tears, so he just covered the flag in Sirius’s hand with his own and squeezed it.

They returned to the hotel and began packing. It was a strange feeling – Remus couldn’t say he didn’t want to return to their house and bed and friends. Plus he was fairly convinced his body couldn’t handle one more day of go-go-going from morning till night. He could only take so much. At the same time, however, he had never felt so accepted outside of his group of friends from Hogwarts. He wasn’t sure if he ever would again.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” Sirius said simply as he folded one of his shirts.

Remus nodded, and his throat felt a little tight. “Me too.”

“Maybe we can come back someday?” Sirius said, and it had the tone of trying one’s hardest to not hope too much. 

“Yeah.” Remus sniffed. “Maybe.”

Their flight was early Monday morning, and they practically had to drag each other’s exhausted bodies onto the plane.

“I wasn’t built for international travel,” Sirius groaned as he plopped into his seat.

“Don’t be such a…” Remus started, but his sentence evolved into a, frankly, gigantic and absurdly long yawn. “...baby,” he finished lamely.

Sirius laughed and cuffed him on the shoulder as he looked out the window.

“Bye, California,” he said, and Remus smiled ruefully.

“See you again someday,” he replied.

Sirius did end up folding up their gifted flag and tucking it in one of his bottomless pockets he’d bewitched on the leather jacket he’d bought. Remus understood.

But as Sirius settled in and leaned his head on Remus’s shoulder, Sirius’s hand found his and laced their fingers together. They held hands the entire flight back to London.

**Author's Note:**

> a few historical notes about this fic/the 1978 freedom day:
> 
> -the original gay pride flag was in fact revealed by inventor gilbert baker at san francisco gay freedom day parade on june 25, 1978  
-the attendance of the 1978 freedom day is estimated at 240,000 people  
-the briggs initiative, thankfully, did NOT end up passing – in fact, it failed pretty spectacularly, with 58% of voters deciding against it
> 
> i do sincerely apologize if there are some inaccuracies or inconsistencies, i tried to research as thoroughly as i was capable of!! 
> 
> team: embarkment  
prompt: [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EGcmFBbX0AASMsr?format=jpg&name=medium)


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